Messrs. Blackwood have in press a new book of poems by Owen Meredith (Lord Lytton).

Mr. Ruskin has at last consented to allow the two volumes of his "Modern Painters," which have long been out of print, to be reprinted. They will be merely a reprint, intended to complete the sets of the work now incomplete, and will not interfere with the new and largely abridged and revised edition, in favor of which Mr. Ruskin at first refused to allow the reissue of the old one.

The following humorous letter to a London journal tells its own story. We give it a place as one of the "Curiosities of Literature: "

Sir: I only venture to intrude upon you because I come, in some sense, in the interests of public morality; and this makes my mission respectable. Mr. John Camden Hotten, of London, has, of his own individual motion, republished several of my books in England. I do not protest against this, for there is no law that could give effect to the protest; and, besides, publishers are not accountable to the laws of heaven or earth in any country, as I understand it. But my little grievance is this: My books are bad enough, just as they are written; then what must they be after Mr. John Camden Hotten has composed half a dozen chapters and added the same to them? I feel that all true hearts will bleed for an author whose volumes have fallen under such a dispensation as this. If a friend of yours, or even you yourself were to write a book, and set it adrift among the people, with the gravest apprehensions that it was not up to what it ought to be intellectually, how would you like to have John Camden Hotten sit down, and stimulate his powers, and drool two or three original chapters on to the end of that book? Would not the world seem cold and hollow to you? Would you not feel that you wanted to die and be at rest? Little the world knows of true suffering! And suppose he should entitle these chapters Holiday Literature,' "True Story of Chicago," "On Children," "Train up a Child and Away he Goes," and "Vengeance;" and then, on the strength of having evolved these marvels from his own consciousness, go and "copyright " the entire book, and put in the title page a picture of a man with his hand in another man's pocket, and the legend "All Rights Reserved." (I only suppose the picture: still, it would be a rather neat thing.) And, further, suppose that, in the kindness of his heart and the exuberance of his untaught fancy, this thoroughly well-meaning innocent should expunge the modest title which you had given your book, and replace it with so foul an invention as this, "Screamers and Eye-Openers," and went and got that copyrighted too. And suppose that, on top of all this, he continually and persistently forgot to offer you a single penny, or even send you a copy of your mutilated book to burn. Let one suppose all this. him suppose it with strength enough, and then he will know something about woe. Sometimes when I read one of those additional chapters constructed by John Camden Hotten, I feel as if I wanted to take a broom-straw and go and knock that man's brains out. Not in anger, for I feel none. not in anger, but only to see: that is all-mere idle curiosity. And Mr. Hotten says that one nom de plume of mine is "Carl Byng." I hold that there is no affliction in this world that makes a man feel so down-trodden and abused as the giving him a name that does not belong to him. How would this sinful aborogine feel if I were to call him John Camden Hottentot, and come out in the papers and say he was entitled to it by divine right? I do honestly believe it would throw him into a brain fever, if there were not an insuperable obstacle in the way.

Let

Oh!

Yes to come back to the original subject, which is the sorrow that is slowly but surely undermining my health,Mr. Hotten prints unrevised, uncorrected, and, in some respects, spurious books, with my name to them as author, and thus embitters his customers against one of the most innocent of men. Messrs. George Routledge & Sons are the only English publishers who pay me any copyright; and therefore, if my books are to disseminate either suffering or crime among readers of our language, I would ever so much rather they did it through that house, and then I could contemplate the spectacle calmly as the dividends came in.-I am, Sir, &c..

SAMUEL L. CLEMENS ("MARK TWAIN").

Mr. Walter Besant is preparing a new work on the French Humorists.

Mr. G. Smith, of the British Museum, gives the following account of the record of the Deluge which he has lately deciphered from the Assyrian monuments:-"The cuneiform inscription which I have recently found and translated gives a long and full account of the Deluge. It contains the version or tradition of this event which existed in the early Chaldean period at the city of Erech (one of the cities of Nimrod), now represented by the ruins of Warka. In this newly-discovered inscription, the account of the Deluge is put as a narrative into the mouth of Xisthrus or Noah. He relates the wickedness of the world, the command to build the ark, its building, the filling of it, the Deluge, the resting of the ark on a mountain, the sending out of the birds, and other matters. The narrative has a closer resemblance to the account transmitted by the Greeks from Berossus, the Chaldean historian, than to the Biblical history, but it does not differ materially from either; the principal differences are as to the duration of the Deluge, the name of the mountain on which the ark rested, the sending out of the birds, &c. The cuneiform account is much longer and fuller than that of Berosus, and has several details omitted both by the Bible and Chaldean historian. This inscription opens up many questions of which we knew nothing previously, and it is connected with a number of other details of Chaldean history which will be both interesting and important. This is the first time any inscription has been found with an account of an event mentioned in Genesis." For convenience of working, Mr. Smith had divided the tablets into sections according to the subject matter of the inscriptions. These documents were much mutilated, but search being made among the broken pieces of inscriptions, eighty fragments were found, which enabled Mr. Smith to restore nearly all the text of the description of the Flood, and a large portion of the other legends. These tablets were originally at least twelve in number, forming one story or set of legends, the account of the Flood being on the eleventh tablet. The writing on these tablets was executed about 600 B.C., in the time of King Assurbanipal, in whose library at Ninevah they were found.

But they are evidently copies of a still more ancient composition, dating not later than the 17th century before Christ, and possibly much earlier. Sir Henry Rawlinson attributes a far higher antiquity to the originals, showing that the historical era of the Assyrians dated back 5,150 years B.C., and that the legend belonged to the mythological period, and probably 1,000 or 1,500 years earlier. Beneath the mounds and ruined cities of Chaldea there probat ly are other legends and histories calculated to shed much light on the early history of mankind.

The romantic legends which enlivened the historical text-books of our boyhood frequently fare but ill at the hands of modern inquiry; but it is not often that they suffer so signal and, we may add, so painful an explosion as the legend of William Tell has recently suffered frrom the hands of the Historical Society of the Old Swiss Cantons. The conclusions arrived at on this subject by the learned body in question are thus stated in the Cologne Gazette :"There never was a Landvogt Gessler nor a William Tell. Tell never refused to lift his hat, never fired at an apple on his son's head, although the very crossbow with which the deed was done is exhibited in Zurich; he never crossed the Lake of Lucerne in a tempest of wind and rain; he never boldly jumped upon the Tell Platte, never spoke his speech in the defile at Kussnacht, and never shot the Landvogt. What is more, the inhabitants of Uri, Schwyz, and Unterwalden never met by night on the Rütli." Might not the Swiss Historic Society have dealt more tenderly with William Tell? It must be confessed that the slayer of the tyrant Gessler has for some time past been receding more and more into the region of myths, and that the free Switzer, if of an antiquarian turn, has been somewhat shy of alluding to the once-famous legend. But might not the utter annihilation of the hero have been reserved for esoteric circles, and the traditions which have made Altorf a shrine for the pilgrim, and the dark waves of the Bay of Uri nobler than all the waters of Zurich or Geneva, been left to linger on with guides and guide-books if only for the sake of excursionists? Granting that Tell is probably the merest myth, the chance embodiment of a legend current in one shape or another in every land where free archers and tyrant lords have strutted their brief hour on the stage, might he not have received the benefit of a possible doubt and been gently set aside with a verdict of "Not Proven." Possibly the historic iconoclasts have some grudge against his memory as that of an impostor who has usurped the place of better men, and obscured the fame of more authentic heroes like that Arnold von Winkelried, who made a pathway for his countrymen by clasping to his breast the sheaf of Austrian spears. But who, when Tell is denied us, will believe in Swiss heroes more? will be much if another generation regard the Lion of Lucerne without uncomfortable historic doubts.

It

The London Daily News says that Oliver Cromwell, represented as a sneak, a bully, and a would-be-traitor, is at this moment being played in an English theatre by a low comedian; and the question naturally arises how far a dramatic author is within his right in falsifying history, slandering great names, and outraging the moral sense of his own time. It would, no doubt, be hard to deny to the dramatist that freedom of interpretation which is assumed by the historian, and that liberty has been exercised in many directions by all dramatists who have dealt with history; but there is nothing more striking in the greatest historical dramas known to literature than the general faithfulness of the pictures of society and of celebrated per

sons which they present. We consider (the New: says) that an author has outraged literary precedent, as well as historical truth and good taste, who deliberately portrays Oliver Cromwell as a knave, a hypocrite, and a time-server, ready to betray his compan ions and sell his soul for the promise of an earidom. We do not believe that any such monstrous defiance of probability is to be found in dramatic literature worthy of the name. But even if such a thing had happened during some period of political excitement, and while his character and actions had not yet received the dispassionate investigation of history, such a fact would not justify, in these later days, an insult paid to one of the great names that ennoble English history.

The Emperor of Germany recently paid $200 for an autograph letter of Washington.

The London Times gives the following high, but well-merited praise to Woodward & Gates' "Encyclopædia of Chronology, Historical and Biographical," recently published in this country by Lee & Shepard : "We have biographical dictionaries enough, and to spare. There is no lack of gazetteers and topographical books; but hitherto the ground which this work aspires to fill has been to a great extent unoccupied. It is a book of universal reference on chronology, and contains within the compass of some 1,500 pages a brief epitome of those events which mark the rise, progress, decline, and fall of states, and the changes in the fortunes of nations. Hence it not only records the leading events and incidents in the lives of public characters at home and abroad in all ages of the world, but gives us brief entries of wars, battles, sieges, alliances, treaties of peace, geographical discoveries, the settlement of colonies and their subsequent foctunes; in a word, of all such occurrences as are of general historic interest. The biographical records are of necessity brief; but they generally contrive to give us the principal events of great men's lives, chronologically arranged; and where these men happened to be authors as well, we are supplied with a short list of their principal works Some of the articles, notably those on Ireland, the Irish Church, Rome, Germany, Paris, the Jews, Wellington, Napoleon, etc., extend over a column or more; but in these cases, the information given, instead of being 'massed,' and run on, is broken up into several paragraphs, each carefully arranged in chronological order. The same principle is followed up by distributing long articles, where that is possible, under several headsa process which greatly facilitates the work of referIt only remains to add that the book is characterized by the most scrupulous care in its minutest details. Thus, for instance, where there is any doubt as to dates of time and place, both accounts are given, with references at the foot to those writers on whose authority they respectively rest. This plan, it is obvious to remark, is the only one which can furnish the student with the means of comparing and estimating the value of conflicting statements; and the names of the authorities there cited will serve to indicate the general trustworthiness of other statements, which are accompanied by no list of such authorities. The book itself the product of nearly twenty years of brain-work--is wonderfully exact and complete."

ence.

CORRESPONDENCE.

Charles Reade and Dean Swift.-Mr. Charles Reade has written a novel in the Graphic newspaper. It was accidentally brought to my house at Christmas, and, looking at a page of it, I was reminded of Dean Swift's "Journal of a Modern Lady." Mr. Charles Reade writes :

"Down they sat, and soon their eyes were gleaming, and their flesh trembling with excitement. Mistress Anne Gregory held bad cards; she had to pawn ring after ring-for these ladies, being well acquainted with each other, never played on paroleand she kept bemoaning her bad luck-Betty, I knew how 'twould be. The parson called to-dayThis odious chair, why will you stick me in it?— Stand further, girl. I always lose when you look on.' Mrs. Betty tossed her head and went behind another lady. Miss Gregory still lost, and had to pawn her snuff box to Lady Dace. She consoled herself by an insinuation, 'My lady, you touched your wedding ring. That was a sign to your partner here ''Nay, Madame, 'twas but a sign my finger itched. But if you go to that, you spoke a word began with H. Then she knew you had the King of Hearts.''That is like Miss, here,' said another matron. 'She rubs her chair when she hath Matadore in hand.' -Set a thief to catch a thief, Madam,' was Miss's ingenious and polished reply. Hey-dey,' cries one. Here's Spadillo got a mark on the back: a child might know it in the dark. Mistress Pigot, I wish you'd be pleased to pare your nails.'

It was

four o'clock before they broke up, huddled on their cloaks and hoods, and their chairs took them home, with cold feet and aching heads."

The Dean writes :

With panting heart and earnest eyes,
In hope to see Spadillo rise;

In vain, alas! her hope is fed;

She draws an ace, and sees it red.

In ready counters never pays,

But pawns her snuff box, rings and keys;
Ever with some new fancy struck,
Tries twenty charms to mend her luck.
"This morning when the parson came
I said I should not win a game.

This odious chair, how came I stuck in 't?
I think I never had good luck in 't.

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

This business of importance o'er,
And Madam almost dressed by four,
The footman, in his usual phrase,
Comes up with "Madam, dinner stays."
She answers in her usual style,

"The cook must keep it back a while :
I never can have time to dress;
No woman breathing takes up less."

I have read little of Mr. Reade's story beyond what I have quoted. There may be more stuff of the same sort in it, as Mr. Reade makes a slight reference to Swift's "Polite Conversation." If this is how novels are made, surely novel writing must be an easy art.

C. F.

Milton's MS. Poems.-Hazlitt, in his "Journey through France and Italy," speaking of Milton's visit to Italy in his youth, says that

"It is said that several of Milton's poems, which he wrote at this period, are preserved in manuscript in the libraries in Florence; but it is probable that, if so, they are no more than duplicates of those already known, which he gave to friends."

Have these poems ever been examined? Are they still unpublished? UNEDA. Philadelphia.

Enigma. Can any of your readers furnish me with the answer to the following? "ENIGMA.

The noblest object in the works of art,
The brightest scene that nature can impart,'
The point essential in the tenant's lease,
The well-known signal in the time of peace,
The farmer's comfort when he drives his plough,
The soldier's duty and the lover's vow;
The planet seen 'twixt earth and sun,
The prize which merit ne'er yet has won,
The miser's treasure and the badge of Jews;
The wife's ambition and the parson's dues.
Now, if your noble spirit can divine
A corresponding word for every line,
By the first letters clearly will be shown
An ancient city of no small renown."
B. C. L. BREMNER.

Bayard Taylor on the Turkish Bath.Some "Opinions of Eminent Authors" are prefixed to the American edition of Erasmus Wilson's treatise on the Turkish bath, and amongst them is an extract from Bayard Taylor, commencing with "No man can be called clean till he has bathed in the East." Can any of your readers inform me in which of Mr. Taylor's works the above is to be found? JOHN PEARCE.

Dean Swift and Lord Palmerston.—It is very usual to attribute the following sentiment to the late Lord Palmerston :

"Whoever could make two ears of corn or two blades of grass to grow upon a spot of ground where only one grew before, would deserve better of mankind, and do more essential service to his country, than the whole race of politicians put together." It occurs in "Gulliver's Travels," p. 129, Vol. I, first edition, 1726.

FITZ RICHARD.

Harmonious Accident.--In Horne's" New Spirit of the Age" it is noted that some of the most tragic scenes in Mr. Dickens's works (notably Nelly's funeral, from the "Old Curiosity Shop ") are written in blank verse, which it is possible may have been the result of harmonious accident, and the author not even subsequently conscious of it." Perhaps the following perfect hexameter from cap. vii. of Thackeray's "Esmond," describing the wonderful wifely devotion of Lady Castlewood, may be worth embalming.

"Strange what a man may do, and a woman yet think him an angel!"

MARS DENIQUE.

"The Star-Spangled Banner, and "To Anacreon in Heaven."-As inquiries have been addressed to me at various times as to the authorship of "To Anacreon in Heaven," it may be well to place it on record in your columns. The air has acquired a widely extended interest from its having been adopted for the national song of "The Star-Spangled Banner."

In the second half of the last century, a very jovial society, called The Anacreontic, held its festive and musical meetings at the Crown and Anchor Tavern, in London, "a large and curious house, with good rooms and other convenience, fit for entertainments," says Strype. It is now the Whittington Club, but in the last century it was frequented by such men as Dr. Johnson, Boswell, Sir Joshua Reynolds, and Dr. Percy, especially to sup there. A certain Ralph Tomlinson, Esq., was at one time President of the Anacreontic Society, and he wrote the words of the song adopted by the Club, while John Stafford Smith set them to music.

The style of the club will be best exemplified by the first and last stanzas of the song:

"To Anacreon in Heaven, where he sat in full glee, A few Sons of Harmony sent a petition,

That he their inspirer and patron would be,

When this answer arrived from the jolly old Grecian, 'Voice, fiddle, and flute,

No longer be mute!

I'll lend you my name, and inspire you to boot;
And besides, I'll instruct you like me to entwine,
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's Vine."

This sets Jove and the gods in an uproar. They fear that man will be too jovial. At length they relent. There are six stanzas, and the last is as follows:

May our Club flourish happy, united, and free; And long may the Sons of ANACREON entwine The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's Vine." The last two lines of each stanza were repeated in chorus.

One of the early editions of the words and music is entitled, "The Anacreontic Song, as sung at the Crown and Anchor Tavern in the Strand, the words by Ralph Tomlinson, Esq., late President of that Society. Price 6d. Printed by Longman and Broderip, No. 26 Cheapside, and No. 13 Haymarket." Here the author of the music is unnamed, but it is in "A fifth

Book of Canzonets, Catches, Canons, and Glees, sprightly and plaintive.

by

John Stafford Smith, Gent., of His Majesty's Chapel Royal, author of the favorite glees, Blest pair of Sirens,' Hark the Hollow Woods,' and of 'The Anacreontic,' and other popular songs. Printed for the author, and sold at his house, No. 7 Warwick-street, Spring Gardens, and at the music shops." At p. 33 of this collection is "The Anacreontic Song, harmonized by the author."

I have not the date of the Anacreontic Song, but the words and music are included in "Calliope, or the Musical Miscellany," published in Edinburgh, in 1788, 8vo.; and, before that, they were published in "The Edinburgh Musical Miscellany," of which the date is torn off in my copy. If any regard to copyright was paid in those publications (which is by no means certain), the fourteen years of author's right must then have expired, and the date of the song would be between 1770 and 1775. According to the "Biographical Dictionary of Musicians," John Stafford Smith was born "about 1750," was the son of the organist of Gloucester Cathedral, and was afterwards a pupil of Dr. Boyce-probably in the Chapel Royal, as ultimately he became a gentleman of the Chapels. With such an education, he might well have composed the music between the twenty and twenty-five. The contrary motion between the voice part and the bass shows the musician. W. C.

ages

of

Memoirs of R. B. Sheridan, the Dramatist. Where is the Memoir of Sheridan, written by Leigh Hunt, to be found? It is referred to as "a slight sketch," in the life of the dramatist, by G. G. S., prefixed to Bohn's edition of Sheridan's Dramatic Works, (1864), and likewise published separately. Perhaps some one may also know who G. G. S. is? I may mention that I have discovered that another of the less known, yet valuable, Memoirs of Sheridan, viz., that written by Professor Smyth, of Cambridge, and referred to by G. G. S., was printed at Leeds, for private circulation, in 1840. R. R.

[The Biographical and Critical Sketch of R. B. Sheridan, by Leigh Hunt, is prefixed to Sheridan's Dramatic Works, published by Moxon in 1846. G. G. S. is Mr. Sigmund.-ED.]